Some Nights, I Just Want to Go Home
by precious-passenger
Summary: A brief story between Kurt and Burt after "Grilled Cheesus" in season two. one-shot. complete.


Some Nights, I Just Want to Go Home

Summary: Just a tiny scene between Kurt and Burt after "Grilled Cheesus" in season two. one-shot. complete.

A/N: Another one-shot as promised. It's a little bit on the angsty side. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Kurt opened the door to the house, juggling the grocery bags in one hand and the bag with another. He spent a good half an hour arguing with the shop assistant to get the brand of milk that had the least amount of fat in it. Same went for the rest of the ingredients he needed for the soup he was going to make his dad tonight. He went to the supermarket straight after school and it was beginning to get dark outside.

It was only the first week since Burt had been dismissed from the hospital, with strict orders from his doctor to rest and a checkup at the end of the week. Kurt had taken upon himself to take care of his father. He'd arranged with Carole to check on him when he was in school. Principal Figgins hadn't allowed him any more skipping school.

He opened the door only to find out the room was dark. The television was on, still showing an endless rerun of some dance competition; he didn't want his dad shout or stress over a silly football game.

His hands shook as he tried to find the light switch. He found his dad, lying on the couch. _He's just asleep_, a part of his mind tried to rationalize with him. He tried to look at his dad's face, try to find if he's breathing but his head was swimming, his own breath coming quickly, eyes quickly filling with tears.

He was catapulted to the time when Mr. Shuester knocked on the door of his French class. Even now he'd glance worriedly at the door each time someone knocks on it. And the days after that when unable to do anything but wait, his only comfort was the steady sound of beeps and his father's unresponsive hand in his own.

He clutched at his throat, forcing his lungs to work. The action sent the grocery bag flying on the ground. Kurt drew a sharp breath in alarm. The noise made Burt shift in his sleep and snore rather loudly in the suddenly quiet room.

Kurt slid on the floor and leaned his head against the wall, his hand coming up to muffle the relieved sob.

His dad was alive. Breathing…and so very alive.

_Thank you, just... thank you_, Kurt found himself saying.

He got up and grabbed the blanket from the armchair and dropped it on his father. Then He placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. He knew he had to go and sort the shopping items, get the soup ready, and maybe turn the heating up by a few degrees, but instead all he could do was to reach for the remote and hit the mute button before dropping beside the couch, where he could hear Burt's slow breathing.

* * *

Kurt's jolted awake from his nap by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake, "Kurt, buddy, wake up!"

"Let's go sleep, kid. Okay?"

"But what about dinner?"

"Carole already warmed the soup you made last night?"

He made soup last night? He couldn't remember.

Kurt tried to make himself busy while Burt was in the bathroom and getting ready for bed. He had put the groceries away and dropped his bag into his room. He was alert for any kind of noise that might show that Burt was in distress.

He helped his dad get into bed and after triple checking the blanket and made sure Burt would call for him if he needed something; he stood awkwardly by the doorstep.

Burt took one look at him and called, sounding resigned. "Would you like to sleep beside me?"

Kurt hurried over to the bed, not wanting the offer to expire.

He was talking to his mother. Well, he spent more years talking to her grave than he ever did when she was…well, alive.

He realized the setting was different and he glanced around only to notice a different, new gravestone beside him.

Burt Hummel.

No, no, no, no…

"Kurt, I need him with me." The voice was nothing like his mother's but it came from the grave.

"No, no, please. You can't have him."

Kurt felt panic bubbling up. What was he going to do now?

"I don't want him gone. Don't take him."

He shouted angrily up in the sky.

* * *

"Kurt, kiddo. You're having a nightmare."

Kurt was breathing hard and his head was spinning.

"It's alright. I'm here. Daddy's here."

The sentence only made him cry harder. He clutched to Burt's side, his tears soaking through his pajama.

Sobs wrecked his son's fragile form and Burt could just rock him back and forth, whispering over and over, "I'm right here, Kurt. I'm right here."

* * *

A/N: Reviews make my day.


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